"Yes, sir; we fired the grass," Prescott acknowledged.

"To break the stampede?"

"No, sir; to save our camp, which would have been destroyed."

"Shake," invited the stranger, riding forward and bending over
to hold out his hand. "Your fire cost us a few cattle, but I
reckon it saved the destruction of a lot more, for there would
have been many of 'em killed if they had charged on into the deeper
forest."

"Then the stampede has been stopped?" asked Prescott.

"Yes; two of my men followed the parted trails, and came back
to report the two herds halted and grazing. My name is Ross.
I'm the owner of about a fourth of the cattle in the big herd."

"I hope you don't feel angry with us for doing the best we could
to save our camp," Dick went on.

"You saved myself and the other owners a greater loss," replied
Mr. Ross, "so I thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Mr. Ross," smiled Tom Reade. "But what
was the shooting about?"

"I shot some of the cattle that appeared to be still alive, to
put an end to their suffering. You boys haven't any ice here,